


disposition

by charcoalsuns



Series: sportsfest 2018 [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15584217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalsuns/pseuds/charcoalsuns
Summary: Back to the wall like he's sneaking – he isn't – Daichi pokes his head around the corner and peers across the courtyard. There's Suga, his smile bright like clouds have parted, like he's either telling a funny story or informing of some careful truth. He has a smuggled volleyball in his hands, and Daichi thinks it's the best look on him of all.(or, Daichi witnessing the scene where Suga practices passes with Hinata at the beginning of the school year)





	disposition

**Author's Note:**

> (BR 4) [for a prompt by equinoxchick](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/11674.html?thread=2045338#cmt2045338): 
> 
> [image from let's haikyuu: daichi near a corner of wall, watching suga practice with hinata during lunch break and saying, "oooh, that's great, suga... i wanna join on practicing too...!" with little _fidgetfidget restlessrestless_ sound effects around him]
> 
>  
> 
> i love, alternate pov of familiar scenes,
> 
> (also this, this wordcount....... i couldn't plan these things oh my god, it's like my first miyas fic just turning out at 1107 words long fhgksdf)

  


It isn't difficult to pay attention in class.

It shouldn't be – Daichi's had enough sleep, like usual, and eaten more than enough breakfast, like usual. He's done his reading. He's filled out his worksheets, shelved new facts in his head like raw ingredients ready to be properly organized, one lesson by the next. 

But this lesson is leaving his brain muddled and warm, ingredients melting, and for another day over the past few months, Daichi is finding it difficult to pay attention. 

It doesn't mean he _isn't_ , but part of him is constant; part of him cannot ignore that sitting slumped in the classroom on the other side of the back wall is a teammate-friend turning away, and part of him worries, worries like he tells others not to, worries less than Asahi would, dammit, that what they're shaping together now isn't going to be enough.

Part of him knows he carries his own confidence in a gut's worth of shifting surety. Part of him has been watching Suga dim like a jostled light bulb since March and doesn't know what to try. Indeed, part of him is constant – but not solid. 

"Ow," he says, reflexive as his scrunched-up scowl up over his ringing shoulder. "What the heck, Suga." 

Suga's post-punch grin is only as bright as a partly cloudy sky. "Lesson's over, Daichi, come on. Can't be daydreaming now, the year's just started!" 

"I was not," Daichi grumbles, flipping his notebook closed on Suga's drawn out _Sure_. He slides it under his desk and turns to his bag where it's slung over his chair. "I've got some money today, so after I run down to the cafeteria, where do you want to eat? It's a nice day out." 

"Oh, um." Suga's still laughing, but his eyes widen and slip as he does, and Daichi thinks _daydreaming_ isn't the cause anymore. "Actually, I'm gonna— I have something, some studying, questions to do. Ask. I'll see you later, though, okay?" 

With that, a wave, and a quick stride, Suga backs away from Daichi's desk, turns, apologizes to a classmate for knocking their writing arm askew, and is out the door, leaving Daichi to blink in mild amusement behind him. He's never been very good at deception. 

Oh well. As long as he gets around to having lunch, too. Daichi, for his part, is very good at deciding what he needs and doesn't need to know, and this falls neatly under the latter. Trust is a neat thing, when it comes to the two of them. 

That decided, though, there is also something to be said for the convenience of coincidence, which becomes apparent with the fact that the main hallway leading to and from the cafeteria leads, too, past a section of the school's courtyard. 

It's still the cooler part of spring, but there Hinata is, T-shirt and shorts like lunchtime is his extra run-around time, passing a volleyball overhand. His legs are flailing, his form kind of a mess, but he gets the ball up, and that, Daichi believes, is a tried and true good start. 

He's just wondering whether Hinata had snuck that volleyball out of the equipment room when he realizes the ball is arcing away from him, and back. 

_Something, some studying, questions to do. Ask._

Ah. 

It's Daichi's turn to draw out a nice _sure_ , though he'd already known something was odd, and though his reply is only in his head as he makes a slight detour over to a clearer vantage point. 

Back to the wall like he's sneaking – he isn't – Daichi pokes his head around the corner and peers across the courtyard. There's Suga, his smile bright like clouds have parted, like he's either telling a funny story or informing of some careful truth. He has a smuggled volleyball in his hands, and Daichi thinks it's the best look on him of all. 

Something starts up in his chest, a warmth that settles in to stay awhile. A warmth not like the foreboding thaw of a refrigerator, but like the second, fuller drink of tea when it's at a wonderful temperature, stretching quick through his body as if waking from some stressful sleep. Not for the first time, Daichi calls it relief. Not for the first time, Daichi smiles where Suga can't see him, and lets gladness wash through him as he watches Suga reach out where he cannot. 

From his half-hidden place behind their nearest corner, Daichi nods to himself. He tells himself to pull back and continue on his way to the cafeteria. There's money in his pocket for bread and a box of milk, and he knows perfectly well that if he wants even a fighting chance at getting a bread with filling, he needs to make up for lost time and go, now. 

He tells himself to turn, but he can't. 

Suga's laughing, now, Hinata springing back up on his feet with an embarrassed laugh of his own, and as they continue passing, back and forth, uncoordinated and irregular, they keep up light bursts of easy conversation, filling their section of the courtyard with the tangible, contagious feeling of _having fun_ , and all Daichi wants to do is go over and join in. 

His fingers itch with it, muscles in his legs tensing from the want to run, to jump, to shift in reaction to a dozen micromovements at once – but he can't. 

It isn't difficult to stand as captain. 

It shouldn't be – Daichi's had practice at home herding any number of younger family members, and practice in elementary, in middle school at rallying a team around impractical possiblity. He knows he has a bit of a natural disposition to being some sort of leader. He's learned from captains before him, and decided the kind of _kind_ he wants to be. 

He watches from a distance as Suga reaches out to their newest, most inexperienced member-to-be, and recognizes his variant of kindness in turn. He holds it close, a grateful reminder. 

Where would he stand, without a trusted hand to lead with him? 

They still have a long way to go.

Each of them, and all of them.

Daichi, in the moments his gut clenches, finds himself with whispered worries he cannot seem to burn or wash away. Far from ridding him of worry, Suga and his only half-enforcing lookout for trouble might be tossing additional ones upon him. But for right now, Daichi turns away from a Suga looking out for the future of their team, and as he makes his way to the cafeteria for some hopeful remnants of packaged bread and a drink from the vending machine, his surety flickers brighter. 

Just as he believes they, too, will grow.

  



End file.
